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The scan had gone as well as a scan could go. What I'd liked was having a radiographer who spoke to me as a person and, the fact that I'd been given what seemed like green hospital scrubs to wear, or a gown, which exposed my backside. For me the choice had been an obvious one, even though I'd had to fold the waistband of the trousers in on itself and then knotted it.



What's more, I'd even joked [semi-seriously] that it was a womb-machine.

She's questioned the remark, so I'd then explained to her, “It's dark, oppressive and, the noise you hear inside sounds like a damn heartbeat!” That had garnered a smile from her.



Grant you, I'd got lost again. I seem to every time I go. Yet that said, all my stressing had really been quite unnecessary – yet again.



Often, it seems when I face my fears, they're so much less than envisaged.



And that leads me neatly onto Clatterbridge Hosptial, for an x-ray.



Dad and I had already done the housework and although I'd been getting ready to go out, it was grey outside and, that had not encouraged me whatsoever.



But, a bad chest had prevented one x-ray, faceache [copd] another – and the, there was this one.

And, needless to say, developing tendonitis in my left wrist, shortly after making Dad's bed had not surprised me, at all.



Now the wrist had been bad, the week prior – and, up until two days earlier, I''d had a ganglia at the base of my left thumb, near the wrist.



But, this day I had both, the weather was grey and, I had to go out.



Well, I did get out and try not too moan too much – even when io ended up paying twice for a bus journey, 'coz I'd not been able to find my ticket, at the time. And yes, I had found it, as the bus had moved off.



I'd been grateful for my attitude later...



I'd got on the train and noted the young man sitting across the aisle with his back to the drivers cab [like me]. He had been on the phone, in his painters work gear and, missing a right hand.

Oh he had a wrist, just... no left hand.



That said, I had wanted to complain, or moan, when I heard that Peter Capaldi was leaving Doctor Who at the end of the next season.



Not only has he been good in the role, but he brought a certain something to the show that I'd liked. And, around about the same time, I heard that my brother had been in a car crash and, he was soon to be married.



With my opinions on relationships, I'm trying hard, not to say, “What's the difference?”



Oh, I did hear 'bout the scan – I'm fine they say, even thought they've not seen me and tested me at all, yet based their report on another and, this miffs me.



And then there's always... one last story...



I'd finally got out, on yet another grey day and was making my way round the block to the busstop, stopping off long enough to deposit rubbish in the bin. As I'd been doing as I had, a lady in an electric chair, with a King Charles spaniel on lead approached, with her fella, also in an electric chair. Now we do exchange greetings, her and I.



“Hello,” she'd said, “How are you?”

“Standing up and walking,” said I, not meaning what I'd said to be anymore than I usually say, to people who ask, “How are you?”

It's just... who I'd said it to. It just... hadn't been appropriate...



Needless to say, I'd been mollified... or horrified, or just, downright annoyed, at myself...